


far from home

by peachyteabuck



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Mommy Kink, Overstimulation, Punishment, and written super quick bc fuck taking ur time, this was like barely edited per usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteabuck/pseuds/peachyteabuck
Summary: a cozy night in with wanda & natasha
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanov/Reader
Kudos: 100





	far from home

Winters in New York are brutal. Natasha compares them to getting your toenails pulled off which, while something you’ve never personally experienced, you trust she gives an accurate review of.

The safe house you, her, and Wanda are tucked in is upstate, too, meaning everything is worse _and_ you’re locked inside _and_ you have no Internet. Normally you’d be all for their undivided attention but…now it doesn’t seem all that great.

There are a few DVDs and VHS tapes of their favorite movies, old ones and new ones and ones you’ve never heard of (and don’t bother to learn the names of). The titles of Soviet-era films don’t really matter much when you’re in the position that are you are – kneeling under the large television with your back to the oak cabinet it rests in with your mouth gagged, arms bound with your hands behind you. Your legs are bent at the knee and spread so that your center is pressed against a battery run Hitachi. The ropes are tied over a soft white sweater – your feat adorned in socks of the same material.

Part of you is grateful, you can’t imagine being in a cabin in the middle of a snowstorm completely naked. The other part, though, knows this is just another way they can toy with you. If you’re wearing a sweater, they can’t fondle you properly and can tease you about your pretty little pussy being on display while the rest of you is covered so modestly.

“You’d think such a cute little thing like you wouldn’t be such a slut,” Natasha cooed when she finally sat back against the couch, folding her legs under herself and throwing her arm around Wanda’s shoulders. “Who knew she’d be such a whore?”

The other woman laughs, turning back to the television as she attempted to queue some long movie to play as background noise to your beautiful suffering. “I sure didn’t.”

Neither of them say anything for a long time as you writhe and move between grinding onto the toy and trying to move away from it. You come quickly, easily once, twice, three times – shaking and crying out (or, at the very least, trying to).

There’s a moment between movies when Natasha goes to replace their snacks and alcohol that Wanda moves closer to you, turning the vibrator down a setting or two. It’s relief for a few moments, a step away from the unfettered pleasure that was coursing through your body like electric shocks. You’re left alone when Natasha returns, bowl of freshly made popcorn in hand as well as two more beers.

It’s instinct for you to whine as you’re left alone, wanting to be touched and held and praised. You struggle against the binds and your want to come again – knowing if you receive _too much_ pleasure you’re sure they’ll deny you for weeks to “balance it out,” as Wanda called it. Usually this entailed watching her be fucked by Natasha while you were tied up across the bed – similar to the situation you’re in now.

Except then you’re not strapped to a vibrator, and you’ve got more to look at than your fully clothed girlfriends watching Lord of the Rings.

Oh, and when they’re occupied fucking each other, they’re not fucking with you. Somehow that always feels like the worst part (and, maybe, is the part that gets you the wettest) – them ignoring you until you make an extra pathetic sound or shake so much they can’t help but tear their eyes away from the extra-large television.

Eventually they take pity on you, and Wanda pulls the gag from your mouth with the flitter of her fingers, not even bothering to get up; as if you aren’t even worth the trouble of getting from her comfortable spot on the couch. 

Natasha bothers to, though, when you let a small _“fuck”_ leave your mouth as you finally regain the ability to speak. You shriek, trying to move away but limbs still bound to keep you inert.

“Watch your _fucking_ mouth,” she hisses, hand grabbing at your chin to keep you from turning your head away from her.

You whimper when she pushes you away, center throbbing.

“Aw,” Wanda coos. _She read your mind, because of course she did._ “Does the little slut like being manhandled?”

You swallow as best you can and nod, avoiding their heavy gazes. In an instant, Natasha’s hand is back on you – this time on your throat.

“I know you’re a little slut who can’t think for her fucking self,” she tells you through grit teeth, angered at your misbehaving.

She turns the vibrator all the way up, telling Wanda to keep you in place as she dislodges the rope and rips off what little clothes adorn your body as to give her full access to all of you.

You gasp as goosebumps erupt over your skin, cold air a hard pull back to reality as Natasha grabs your hair and forces you flat on the ground, face in the thick carpet with your ass presented to one of the women you love most in the world.

Just like your orgasms earlier that night, the spanks are quick and succinct, leaving little room for negotiation or aftershocks. Quickly the pain and pleasure blend into some indistinguishable solution, your begging and pleading becoming just as unintelligible as Natasha shoves three fingers into you.

“You like that?” she nearly yells, determined to be heard over you. “You like it when Mommy spanks your ass and fucks your little pussy?”

All you can do is scream louder, your arms still pinned behind your back and legs kept spread apart. With her fingers deep in your pussy and the vibrator on your clit, it’s not long before you’re coming all over Natasha’s hand, the carpet, your thighs.

It’s then that you feel Wanda stand up from the couch, stepping over to inspect the work done by your shared girlfriend.

“Aw, did our little girl squirt?” she asks. You can hear the sly smile in her voice as your body goes limp against the floor.

“Oh,” Natasha coos, running one hand through your hair to move the sweaty strands from your face. “Oh, I think she _did_!”

They giggle for a little bit, murmuring about how _hard_ you’re going to have to work to get it out of the carpet tomorrow, how _soaked_ your cunt is.

The world has just stopped spinning, vision clearing, when you’re addressed directly once more.

“Now,” Wanda looks down at you, smiling as you tremble and twitch on the ground. You’re untied, fully naked, yet you remain curled up as if nothing had been removed. She enjoys the sight, as does Natasha; they both love watching you bend to their wills, love witnessing your submission in such a powerful way. It’s an indescribable feeling for the both of them, one they couldn’t begin to identify but still chase every time you’re within reach (and, with the recent purchase of several wireless toys, even when you’re far away). Now, when you’re locked in a safe house with the two of them while a snow storm rages outside and none of you have anywhere to go, seems like a perfect time to indulge in this longing. “Who’s ready to have some _real_ fun?”


End file.
